


Live again, for me

by caitydestroyz



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 4
Genre: Alternate Ending, Drug Use, Drug-Induced Sex, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Escape, Forced Feminization, Forced Pregnancy, Gangbang, M/M, Mpreg, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Physical Abuse, Rape, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 05:24:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5151911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caitydestroyz/pseuds/caitydestroyz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Only the strongest survive, Pagan. And from what we can tell, there’s no way out of this food chain you’ve established here, since you so happened to fall so far down that you can’t escape.” The words were like venom in the former King’s ear, pained whimpers escaping his lips. The press of the younger man’s build against his back was enough to cause tears to form in his eyes. And the only thing that was keeping him alive was the life that he would soon bring into this world - this world that didn’t deserve such a miracle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Live again, for me

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings, denizens. I've had this story stored in my Google Drive for what seemed like several months, and I've finally decided to publish it since I know I won't be able to publish the second chapter until Thanksgiving break.
> 
> Take note, this work is un-beta'd, so any grammatical errors or OOC communication is entirely my fault and will be easily remedied when I get back to editing. Also, for those wandering eyes, this fic is trigger warned for the following tags stated above, so beware if you are unable to comprehend the text at hand.
> 
> Other than that, please enjoy this first chapter!

It had been several days until the Golden Path was erased from Kyrat's history and left the bodies of Amita and Sabal on pikes for all civilians to see. People would have thought that the King of Kyrat, his name once drilled into the minds of the villagers that were in the clutches of the flamboyant ruler, had done such a barbaric act towards those terrorists. No, no they were wrong.

The man that committed such an act believed he had done the world a ton of good, ridding the world of the righteous power of the rebels and their battalion; taking down the Royal Army and all the bits that count in ruins. He had brought back the ashes of his mother, Ishwari, to the temple, Lakshmana. Leaving the trail of blood and lies made him feel like a fucking god.

De Pleur? **Dead**. Noore? **Dead**. Amita? **Dead**. Sabal? **Dead**. Yuma? **Dead** , **dead** , **dead** , **dead fucking** _**dead**_. Hurk? That bastard is somewhere in these godforsaken mountains.

But, what about Pagan? Where was the original King of Kyrat? Where was the man that found comfort in plastering his face on every fucking propaganda poster?

**_No Golden Path_ **

**_Pagan Min, Our Savior_ **

The golden statue of Pagan was dented and dirtied by the whirlwind of brick and mortar, the fires still raging from the splintered wood that remained from some of the nailed design of the small huts.

Nonetheless, he was nowhere to be found. The last he was heard from was delivering Ajay to Lakshmana's memorial shrine, leaving off on a military helicopter.

 _"All choices have consequences, Ajay! I've given you Kyrat, but I'm keeping the helicopter."_ It could have been enough for any man to rule. But, where was the fun in it when everyone was practically dead?

As for Ajay Ghale, it seems that seizing the throne for his own pleasures hadn't come to an end just yet. But, with a price waiting for him. Or, so he had thought. Upon seeing Pagan escaping in the chopper, he had utilized a grenade launcher to send it hurdling a little far east.

He trekked from his current location to the crash site by the signs of smoke and blistering fire as he saw that Pagan was dead. Or he seemed dead, from the looks of it.

The clothes were not even touched by the ashes from the explosion, though it came as no surprise. The pink paisley, sequin suit was his signature look, let alone the bleached blonde faux hawk. Looked like a goddamn pink flamingo, if you ask me. The words of dear old Hurk never got old, a chortle escaping the young man's lips upon his recollection.

Then again, he did have a body double. Eric from Melbourne; high cheek bones and was pushing daisies with the rest of them. That's all he could recall after blowing up his getaway truck.

Examining his surroundings was one thing he had learned from one of his old friends who had taken a vacation on Rook Island, said that trusting the Rakyat was the last thing he would ever let his brother do in a million years. Once securing the area, he approached the once rampant king as he nudged him with his assault rifle.

No movement. No noise; not even a breath intake. Just the sound of the fire burning cinders a little off to the side.

"He could be useful, even if he is dead," Ajay declared.

The young man slotted his weapon into its holster on his back, making sure he switched the safety lock on before securing it with a magnetic latch. Soon, he hooked an arm in the bend of Pagan's knees whilst the other dove under his back to lift him up. The man was a decent weight in his arms, minus the smell of smoke that surely permeated their clothing.

Over the past few weeks of biting bullets that came his way, the taste of freedom was fucking invigorating. Better than any acid trip Yogi and Reggie ever gave him. Those two surely had it in for him being the test subject of their many cocktails of narcotics.

As he was walking, he glanced down every few seconds to the unconscious form in his arms. It was strange, Ajay thought. This man - this psychopath - handed over his entire kingdom in the mountains to the one man that turned Kyrat into shambles. A piss poor shit hole, if putting it lightly. Not a living soul in sight, bodies rotting that will never make it to the grave. Predators in the wild satisfied by their meal count. They could eat for days.

Ajay wasn't sure what came about his behavior as of yet, but he knew one thing. He was going to bring Pagan to his knees when he was finished with him.

Whether it be the easy way, which entailed the usual torture tactics he happened to acquire upon spying on Paul's compound.

Or, the hard way: humiliate the man. Break him from the inside out; ensure that he is the rightful king of Kyrat and that he would make Pagan Min plead for mercy.

Sadistic as it may seem. But whose fault is it, really?

Who brought this war upon a lowly kingdom, praising their ancient gods and goddesses? Who eradicated the Royal Family for future gain of the throne? Who was the one that advanced on this chessboard?

One thing led to another; a disastrous domino effect.

It wasn't Ajay's fault, that's for damn sure. He did what he had to do - to fucking survive. All that was on his agenda before this cluster fuck was to fulfill his mother's dying wish; to deliver her ashes to Lakshmana. And that's what Ajay did.

But no, that wasn't the case. Not entirely.

He got onto the bus that would hopefully take him to Lakshmana. He assumed it was a memorial shrine of some sort, given the limited details and context clues. And Darpan - poor guy, rest his soul - was his guide. Was. The look in the man's eyes was unreadable, but fear lurked when they sat at that table. Like the domino effect that clearly enjoyed making everyone’s life a living hell, the poor guy had a dual pronged fork pierced through his back by Pagan. Ajay wasn't sure why, but when the King mentioned a cry for help sent through text messages on Darpan's phone, it was then that the young man knew that this was it. That man in that god awful pink suit was going to meet his demise.

And if Ajay were to be honest, then he would say that Pagan brought this upon himself.

And, by the time Ajay's thoughts willed themselves away, he was reaching one of the few flat bed trucks that were still in decent condition. He reached for the passenger door handle with his right hand, pulling it open as it creaked.

Setting the older man in the worn out seat, he shut the door before heading over to the driver’s side. The aroma of smoke and vengeance never did smell so bittersweet than it did at this very moment.

And at that moment, he felt like the king Pagan told him he would be. From the moment he stumbled out of that van, he knew everything led down to this moment of redemption.

The once king of Kyrat will truly regret decimating this beautiful country from the depths of the rebellion to its surface.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed it! It isn't the best, but this has been my greatest attempt of twisting the alternate ending of Far Cry 4. I also want to apologize for the short first chapter, since I just wanted to let this circulate here so I know it has been published. But thank you all for the read and hope to hear plenty of feedback from you all soon!


End file.
